Gentle Hands

April 11, 2011
By Anonymous

I use to have dreams,
About life,
About love.
But then the dreams shattered,
Along with my heart.
I am mangled.
I am bruised.
None can fix me,
Though God knows how they’ve tried.
But you,
You’re different.
You know my pain,
And your heart may just be as damaged as mine.
So, my dear,
You hold,
Now and forever,
My broken, bloody, battered heart,
In your hands.

The author's comments:
It's National Poetry Month!

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